


a garden of shadows

by void_glitter



Series: Real Girl Lena AU [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: (for now it's mostly implied but it'll get more prevalent), AU, Angst, Child Abuse, Crushes, F/F, Families of Choice, Honorary Duck Family Member Lena (Disney: Ducktales), Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Lena (Disney: Ducktales) is a Real Person, Loneliness, Magic, Magica de Spell's Horrible Parenting, Oh wait, Real Girl Lena AU, Shadows - Freeform, Sort of? - Freeform, thats enough tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-01 16:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19182025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/void_glitter/pseuds/void_glitter
Summary: Lena's stay in the shadow realm, featuring her growing crush on Webby and her quest to get back to her family.





	1. a little room of shadow

**Author's Note:**

> sooo, if you remember my first fic, "a little room of shadow", this first chapter (and the next 2 i think?) is a rewrite of that! 
> 
> this is the official beginning of my pet project au, known as the real girl au! basically, lena's a real girl, duh. (she's still made of magic, but, not magica's magic? idk man its complex) there's several parts planned for this au, so i won't say more >:3c
> 
> i'm mostly writing this for me, but if you like it, i'd love some comments and kudos! (and asks about it on tumblr lol)

There's not much to do in the shadow realm, and Lena realizes it very quickly.

She awakens to her new surroundings with more of a slide than a jolt. She sits up on the floor, rubbing the side of her head. She looks around through slitted eyes.

She's in a small, dark room. It's not tiny or cramped, but there's not much more space than needed to walk around a bit.

The walls are solid wood, kind of rough, with marks and odd gashes. The floor is carpet, but not the nice kind, like in the manor. It's rough and scratchy and worn, itchy almost. It makes her feathers and skin feel dusty and dry.

There's enough light, or something like it, to see what she's doing, but no more. The darkness encroaches her vision whenever she looks around. She's sure it will damage her eyes soon enough.

There's not a lot to do, in her first few days.

Her phone, a gift from Webby shortly before the incident in the Other Bin, is almost entirely useless. It'll turn on, providing ghastly white light, but nothing will open up save her camera roll.

She spends a lot of time looking at pictures.

She tries a _lot_ of things to combat boredom. She walks in circles. She drums on the walls. She sings, airy lullabies and rock songs and pop ballads, until her throat hurts. She traces fancy sigils on the walls, ones for protection, health, safety, saving. She doesn't know if they'll work in here, or if she's even doing them right.

She talks to her pictures, on occasion. It probably makes her sound insane, but it keeps her mind off the numbing, endless silence.

She talks to her favorite picture of Webby, where she's posed in a dramatic mimicry of Mr. McDuck's portrait behind her. Her favorite pen is held high as a sword, and her hand on her hip. She's grinning so wildly that even looking at the little picture weeks later, Lena's chest clenches. The emotion that wells up in her is unfamiliar, but sweet, like a candy from a strange country.

She tells her about concerts she's been to. About breaking into abandoned buildings. About the handful of times she's met the other members of the de Spell family.

"I think you'd like Matilda and Minima a lot," She says, looking down at Webby's eyes in the photo. They seem to blur as her eyes well with lonely tears, between the thought of her friend and her family. "They're not _all_ bad, y'know. Not like her."

She realizes, pretty early on, that this is the first time, at least since she was very small, she's ever been alone with her own mind. No Aunt Magica plastered to her back, no shadowy whispers in her ears, no twisted manipulation for her to get her wicked aunt's body back. Her mind is her own.

She gives the darkness her strongest smile.

"Y'know what, Aunt Magica? This place might suck, but at least you're not here."

 

  
Two weeks or so into her time in the shadows, Lena hears something. Something that isn't her. Not her own breathing, or her own footsteps, or her own voice.

It's _music_.

Muffled, dull, coming through the walls, but it's _music_ all the same.

She abandons her phone on the scratchy carpet and shuffles closer to the walls on her knees, pressing her head to the wood.

She needs to know where it's coming from. It's the first break in routine, and _she needs to know what it is_.

Her fingers press into the wood, almost willing it to be thinner, so she can hear whatever it is. And suddenly, like a burst through static on her old, shitty radio, back in her old basement room--

"--ank you, Uncle Scrooge." Webby says, her voice sad and soft, almost a bit broken. Lena's heart beats so fast it hurts her ribs. She can _hear_ her best friend! "I feel a little better now."

Lena hiccups once, tears suddenly springing to her eyes, running down her cheeks, cutting trails through her dusty feathers. " _Webby_..." She whispers, closing her eyes in delight. She lets Webby's voice sit in her mind, melting like chocolate on her tongue. It seeps into every corner of her lonely being, filling her up with a soft warmth.

The music stops. It was a piano, presumably the one Lena's seen a few times in the mansion. Whoever is playing pushes the bench out, coughs into their hand.

"That's good, I hoped it would help. I haven't played for anyone in a while." Lena's heart skips, then continues its heavy race. That's Scrooge! _Gods_ , he sounds so much less broken and pathetic than she last heard him, on the day of the eclipse. He sounds like himself again-- strong, confident, bold. Though, there's a hint of something sad, in his voice. "Now come on, Webby, dear, let's get you to bed. Beakley'll have my head if you're up much later."

Webby giggles, in that way that makes Lena's stomach flutter like a million bats and her chest clench in the most painfully pleasant way. She clutches over her heart, balling her shirt up in her fingers tightly. She misses being the cause of that laugh, seeing the way Webby's eyes scrunch up and how her flap with her giggles.

She slumps against the wall, her own small laugh caught in her throat, as she cries softly into her hand. Scrooge and Webby are still talking, much less seriously and much less distinct, and every little word is cherished if not understood. She missed hearing voices that weren't just her own.

Slowly, though, they begin to fade entirely, being swallowed by the static again. Snippets are intelligible-- "-- _night, Webby. Sleep we_ \--" " _Can I have a hu_ \--?"-- but the rest is a burble of nonsense. She presses further against the wall, staring in terror at the unforgiving wood.

"No!" She yells, so loud in her own small space that it hurts her ears. "No, please, come back!" She slams one palm against the wall. "Webby! Scrooge! Please, I'm right here, come back! Don't leave me!"

And there's no answer. The voices become entirely lost among the static and the darkness, and she screams, long and loud, banging on the wall with her palms. This lasts until she catches one of them on a rough gash of the wall.

She hisses lowly, pulling her hand away from the wall, momentarily distracted. In the dimness, she can see there's blood on her hand. Sticky, _dark_ blood.

She cut herself.

The tears return and she wails again, falling to her knees on the carpet. She hits the ground with her fists, even the bloody one.

She throws a fit to put Donald to shame. She screams and cries and wails, until there's nothing left of her rage and loneliness but shaking, sore and exhausted muscles, weak from weeks of underuse, an aching hand, and a sore throat.

She curls up in a corner and hugs her hurt hand to her chest.

She wants to go home.


	2. friendship is the greatest magic of all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to try to the next chapter (aka the last original fic one) up and edited tonight as well! and i'll have chapter 4 up tomorrow morning. thank you for reading!

There's an upside to her fit and the loneliness, Lena learns later on. She can hear a lot more now. If she sits near the wall and listens closely, she can hear some of what's going on outside.

She decides to spend less time brewing in silence and throwing tantrums, and more trying to figure out what she's missing. ~~Maybe she can try manifesting herself in that world, too...~~

The McDuck Family of Weirdos seems to be firmly back together after whatever happened before the Shadow War, she learns. The boys and Donald moved back into the manor, judging by how often she hears all four of them.

She hears a lot of mundane conversations. Webby talking to Mrs. Beakley about schoolwork. The boys bickering about TV shows. Scrooge muttering about meetings. Donald's unintelligible squawking about... something? She really can't understand him yet.

There are bright spots, too, though, exciting things. Stuff like Game Night, which has something to do with Webby arguing with Dewey, Scrooge being too enthusiastic, and tiny creatures of some kind...? She can't tell if she wants to question it, honestly.

She listens in on proper adventures, too. They make her nervous, with all the yelling, guttural sounds of monsters, death-traps springing. They find artifacts and treasures, some she knows nothing about, some she heard Magica mention, some she's read about herself.

She worries about one of them getting hurt. Webby and Scrooge are her main concern, but honestly, any of them would be terrible. They have all shown her a great deal of kindness, and... well, she cares if people die, okay?

Worrying about them leads her to thinking about how she could get back to them. She knows she's somehow connected to Webby, that she would be attached to her somehow, but she isn't sure how. Ironically, magic has never been her strong suit. (Despite being MADE of the stuff, she's never been good at it.)

One day, while Lena is listening to Webby listen to music and work on her board, there's a sound like ripping fabric, and the room Lena's trapped in shakes and rumbles like an office building in an earthquake. She yells and goes down, falling onto her tail, and then her back, as she tries to get back to her feet. It can't last more than a few seconds, but it's enough to bewilder her, leaving her shaking and on the floor when it stops.

"Oh," Webby says, sounding as if she's on the verge of tears. "My bracelet's fraying..."

Lena sits up like someone stuck a straight pin in her. The bracelet! The friendship bracelet! That's what she's anchored to!

Of course, that doesn't surprise her, now that she thinks of it. The damn thing was a hive of accidental magic, weaved into the floss used for it like it was a physical thing. It's why Magica was so against her having a matching one.

Of course, when she needed an anchor, she'd latch onto that.

She giggles a little, staring at the wall. "Friendship is the greatest magic of all," she mumbles to herself, thinking of Webby's earnest voice, that night in the Money Bin.

(That night was when Lena really started to realize that Webby was too good to lose. That what they had was too important to ruin. That maybe getting Aunt Magica back wouldn't be worth it.

That maybe she could have this.) 


	3. the best reunion you can get under these circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact i've rewritten this part of this fic 4 times now because i love to suffer
> 
> (the next chapter is Original Content yall im hyped)

After learning she's attached to Webby's bracelet, Lena focuses entirely on trying to manifest herself in the physical world as best she can.

She has no idea how to do it, at first. Which scares her. The bracelet is supposedly fraying, which means she might not have much time to figure it out.

She feels angry at herself, for never listening to Aunt Magica's often too aggressive lessons on magic, on shadow traveling, on everything like that. They could be very useful right about now. But no, she decided not to listen (which isn't _entirely_ her own fault, if she thinks about it hard enough) and now she's stuck with her own very limited knowledge of magic.

So, she takes it slowly.

At first, she just sits in the dark. Her legs are crossed, and her hand is on her chest where her amulet would be. She meditates, almost, evening her breathing, relaxing, soothing her nerves about the situation. It's the most peaceful she's been here.

As soon as she's completely calm, she moves onto the second part of her plan. She resumes her place on the floor, still holding her chest and she visualizes Webby's room. Her goal, if she can ever achive it, is to manifest herself in Webby's room, however she can.

It takes a few tries. A few days, maybe.

And then, when her hope is running thinner and thinner, like the unraveling thread of her anchor...

...she tries once more, and finds herself still sitting right behind Webby, on her bed. Just like she wanted.

A little, hysterical laugh leaves Lena's mouth at the sight of her best friend. She's right there! Sitting inches away, smiling down at her phone, cross-legged on her bedspread. And Lena is only just a little dizzy from her magic!

She reaches out, wanting to touch Webby. She aims for her shoulder.

And then she sees her hand. Black. A _shadow_.

She hisses as if burned at the sight. For a brief moment, all she can see is Magica's clawed hand, the one that would hurt her, herself, and that scares her. That hand can never, ever, _ever_ touch her Webby.

 _Okay, no touching_ , she thinks. She clears her throat. "Webby?" She asks, her voice coming out raspy, awkward, like broken, sour notes.

Webby, mere inches away, doesn't respond.

It's then that Lena realizes she can't hear her.

She doesn't even know she's there.

Tears spring to Lena's eyes. She scans the room in horror. There has to be something she can do, something to get Webby's attention. Anything.

There's a glass of water on the nightstand, a scant few feet away. If she can just... reach out, try to move it, maybe she can knock it over. That'll get Webby's attention, right?

It takes a tremendous effort to move as a shadow, Lena quickly finds out. Her feathers feel as if they're made of steel, with how heavy they feel, or soaked in some heavy, slimy substance. (She thinks this, even though she has been rendered flat, smooth, and all-black because of a being a shadow. That's just too much to think about, right now.)

She has no clue how Magica was so freakin' _mobile_ in her shadow form. Practice, maybe? Necessity?

She does her best, though. She reaches out both hand, as far as she can, stretching, stretching, _stretching_ , until she can touch the shadow of the glass. She even cheers a little for herself once the effort is done.

Gritting her teeth so hard it hurts, she moves onto the next hard task: pushing the glass over. An action that would be so simple as a person. But, no, she's stuck as a flat shadow, no more capable of simple tasks than a cartoon.

She kind of just wants to cry, now.

Regardless, she wraps her hand around the glasses' shadow, and tries to just flip it. It shouldn't be that hard! But it is, goddammit. She only succeeds in nearly falling over every time she tries to push it and loses her balance. She's surprised Webby hasn't noticed her.

"Come _on_ , Lena," she thinks to herself, swiping again at the glass. Her jaw clenches again. "You've done harder things. You lived under Magica's thumb for years! You can-- knock--this-- glass-- _over_ \--" she continues, swiping between each word.

She's getting tired, both emotionally and physically. Her limbs are getting heavier, and her eyes are welling with tears.

With her last swipe, she yells desperately, as if it will help.

By some miracle, some _luck_ that she's never before had, the glass wobbles side to side. It doesn't fall over, but it trembles, and it makes a sound. A small splash of water rises up and slips down on the side of the glass, dripping down onto the wooden table.

Webby looks up and turns to her nightstand, confusion blooming in the eyes that Lena has missed so much. "What _was_ that?" She asks no one in particular. She narrows her eyes at the glass, the water inside still moving. "Did one of the Gyropuddlians get out of the game board?" Her voice falls off into a mumble. She's still looking.

So Lena starts moving. She waves her hands, then both of her arms. She stares pleadingly at Webby, hoping she'll see her. _Please see me, please, I'm so lonely, look at me, Webby, please!_

And... she does.

Webby turns and looks at her shadow. Her eyes narrow critically, like they do when she's researching or trying to figure out a puzzle. They widen as she takes Lena's new shadowy form, becoming shiny, almost starry.

"Lena?" she asks, softly. She raises a hand, to touch the wall where Lena's shadowy form resides, and moves onto her knees.

Lena's tears finally spill over and she nods. "Webby!" she says, voice breaking in the middle. _Can you hear me? Please hear me!_

Webby's brows furrow in the middle. "Are you trying to talk? I... I can't hear you." Lena's heart sinks. _Dammit!_ She supposes her disappointment shows, or maybe Webby just knows her really well, because she smiles and shakes her head. "No, it's okay. I'm good at charades, remember?" She says, with that sweetness that Lena has missed and that makes her stomach flutter. "Um... are you my shadow, now?"

Lena nods aggressively, flashing a thumbs-up for clarity. "How?" Webby asks. She raises her hand too, and points to her wrist. Webby looks confused for a moment, before looking at her own wrist. "Oh... my friendship bracelet?" She asks for clarity. Another thumbs up. "You're connected to my bracelet?"

Another nod, this time harder, and two thumbs-up. Webby goes fully starry-eyed in admiration. "You've been here the whole time?" She asks. Lena shrugs. "You're not sure? That's okay. Can you.. get out of wherever you've been?"

Lena shakes her head, waving her hands as if to say "no clue". Webby blows a raspberry in annoyance. "Well, that kind of sucks, doesn't it?"

Lena laughs, and so does Webby. "I wish I could hear you laugh again," The younger girl confesses, moving to sit cross-legged again. Lena's face feels warm and she stares at her with nothing but fondness on her mind as they share a silence.

If it wasn't for her place in Webby's shadow, it would feel just like they were having a sleepover again.

All of the sudden, a wave of fatigue strong as a physical force makes Lena slump. If she could, she'd fall over. Oh, that feels terrible. What's happening?

Webby's easy smile fades as she sees her shiver, and lean back, as if falling. "Lena, are you okay?" She asks, concern coloring her voice. "Are you hurt?" Lena shakes her head. She gestures at herself weakly with one hand, and then to the bed. Webby's brows furrow in confusion. "I don't understand..."

Lena groans. She doesn't have enough energy to tell her what's wrong, she can't communicate her problem... She scans the room again, trying to find something that would help her... Books, shelves, clothes, assorted weapons, papers... nothing.

The wave hits her again, and she has to shake her head hard against it, closing her eyes. Webby begins to look a little panicked. "Lena? Lena, what's wrong?"

Lena shakes her head, rubs her face with a hand even if it's hard. She points to herself and the bed again, with a little more force. Please understand, she begs mentally. Please, Webby.

Blessed recognition flares in Webby's eyes. "You're tired?" Nod, nod. "That... that makes sense. You're using magic, right? Magic can make people really tired sometimes, at least from what I've read. I'd guess manifesting yourself as your best friend's shadow would take a lot of energy, or whatever." She clasps her hands on her lap, twiddles her thumbs for a minute. "Does... does that mean you'll have to go away again?"

Lena pauses at that. Does it? She'll probably have to go back to the dark room for a little while, to gather her strength again... She doesn't want to leave, she wants to stay with Webby, but she's too weak. She needs to rest...

So, she nods. Webby frowns. All Lena wants to do is reach out and smooth her sadness away. She just wants to touch her. Hug her. Brush her fingers through her hair. Hold her hand. _Talk_ to her. (Kiss the furrow of her brows, the curve of her bill, the frown wrinkle on her cheek...)

Webby lets out a long, sad sigh. "I miss you a lot, Lena." She murmurs, staring at her clasped hands. "I thought you were dead..."

Lena feels tears well in her eyes, and reaches out, her need to touch Webby rising. She knows Webby has worried herself sick over her-- she's heard her cry at night, locked in her room, under the blankets. She had acted like she was okay, around her family, but Lena, her shadow, knew better.

"If you need to leave, that's okay." Webby finally says, looking up at Lena through her now loose bangs. "But... can you promise you'll come back?" She asks. "I want to see you again."

Lena smiles as best she can, and nods her head. Webby grins, despite the tears in her eyes. "Great! Then, um... see you later, I guess?" She laughs a little. Lena's shadowy heart beats faster, dispelling some of the fatigue. She loves that laugh. Her favorite sound in the world...

Webby shuffles up on her knees, and puts her hand up against the wall. Lena raises her own hand, and for a second, they can almost pretend they're touching.

"Bye for now, Lena. I'm gonna find a way to help you out." Webby promises, and Lena nods her head in agreement, waving a hand towards herself as if to say "me too". She waves again, in farewell.

She does it just in time, too, because another strike of fatigue hits her and everything goes black.


	4. suspicion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter REALLY did not want to be written. i've been fighting w it for like 3 days and it just doesn't feel right. but, it's important for Plot Stuff and Continuity so here it is.
> 
> the triplets are hard to write and i don't even know why

The triplets crowd on Webby's bed, leaning comfortably on eachother as their sister fidgets with her lamp, across the room.

"Sooo, you say Lena's in your shadow?" Dewey asks curiously. "Like, you can see her in it?"

"Mhm!" Webby hums in agreement, finally getting the lamp the way she wants, and ignoring Louie's soft "suspicious". "Not all the time, neither of us are really sure how that works. Though we know it has something to do with my bracelet--" She briefly raises her wrist, in their line of sight, "And that she can only stay for a little bit. She gets really tired."

She scrambles up onto the bed, sitting on her knees with her back to the light. Her shadow, of an appropriate size for someone her height, stretches on the wall in front of her. "Alright, so... usually, she can hear me if I talk to her."

The boys crowd in as Webby looks up at her shadow. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Huey elbows Dewey. "What's she doing?" He whispers. Both of the others shrug.

"Lena? Are you there?"

Before their eyes, Webby's small shadow grows from it's normal size, to that of someone slightly taller. The outline of her hair changes, and a pair of blue eyes open up where a normal person's would be. The shadow shakes it's head, features becoming slightly more distinct-- the curve of a bill, the impression of fingers.

Webby grins brightly and throws her arms up. "Lena! Hi!"

Shadow Lena waves a hand, smiling at her. Her blue eyes dart to the boys, and she points to them.

Dewey raises his brows. "Can she... see us?" He asks, before startling as Lena rolls her eyes and nods. "...Hi." he waves awkwardly, turning to Webby. "Your best friend is in your shadow! That's so cool!" He wraps his arm around hers. "How long have you known?"

"Um... a week or two," Webby answers, her eyes not leaving Lena. "I'm sorry I didn't say the guys would be here. They're the only ones I thought I could tell about you." Lena shrugs her shoulders, and appears to 'lean back' on the wall. She tilts a hand side to side in an 'eh, whatever' sort of gesture.

Huey flips to a blank page in his guidebook, grabbing a pen from Webby's nightstand. "Sooo, Lena apparently can't talk-- how do you two communicate?" he asks cheerfully, obviously delighted at all the new knowledge.

Lena waves her hands around, trying to describe how she communicates. She even forms some signs with her hands. Louie makes a sound of acknowledgment, and she grins, pointing at him as to say "he gets it!"

"She apparently can sign pretty well," Louie says lazily, leaning back on the headboard of Webby's bed next to Lena.

Webby grins and nods aggressively. "Yeah! She signs, and does gestures a lot. I'm really good at reading body language. and I know Lena really well." If a shadow can blush, Lena's doing it.

Huey nods distractedly in acknowledgment, penning down the details. "Sign language, gestures... body language... mhm... Lena, can you still use magic in this form?" He asks, looking up at the blue-eyed shadow.

Lena nods, gesturing to herself. "That's a yes, then," He says cheerfully.

"She's not actually that good at magic." Webby says, twiddling her thumbs on her lap. "She never got the right teachings, since the person who was _supposed_ to be her mentor lost her mind--" Lena gives her a very pointed look, and she closes her mouth, cheeks flushing. "Sorry."

Huey opens his mouth to question her more, a devious curiosity in his eyes, but Louie elbows him to shut him up and leans forward to look at Lena. "Alright, alright, cool. Lena's back, sort of. Great." he sticks his hands in his pockets with a shrug. "Not to sound paranoid, but how do we know this 'shadow Lena' isn't just some trick from Magica? It feels too good to be true."

A thick silence falls like a blanket. Webby continues to twiddle her thumbs, Huey taps his pen, Dewey picks at a loose string on his sleeve, and Lena stares with wide, glowing eyes at the offending duckling.

Louie glances around, not seeming repentant for the suspicion at all. "What? You were thinking it too, right?" He asks his brothers. They shake their heads. His brows furrow. "Listen-- I-I'm happy Lena's okay, alright? I just-- I don't want to automatically trust her. She _did_ lead Magica right to Uncle Scrooge."

Lena moves as if gasping, a hand coming up to her chest, and begins signing. "I _didn't_! She was manipulating me!" She says, eyes wide and pleading.

Webby nods, brows furrowing in anger at her brother. "Louie... Magica was controlling Lena and threatening her. She had no choice!" She says defensively, shuffling closer to her shadow almost protectively.

"I just wanted to be free." Lena says, before folding her arms and looking away, a sulky tint to her blue eyes.

A flicker of shame crosses Louie's face, and he hunches into himself in to avoid the eyes trained on him. "...If you "just wanted to be free", and the way to do that was to listen to Magica, then why did you save Webby and Dewey?" He asks, a more genuine and less suspicious curiosity on his face.

Lena looks back at him, brows looking furrowed. She attempts to begin signing, but drops her hands after a minute and looks down.

"Because she started to care." Webby says, voice far more mature and calm than usual. "Lena started to care about me, and about our family, and realized she didn't want to let Magica hurt us. That's why she did it." She looks up at Lena, a strangely soft look on her face. "Is that right?" There's a suspicious expression on Lena's shadowy features, and she has to rub her cheek before nodding in reply. Webby lights up like a Christmas tree.

"I forgave you for what you did a long time ago, anyway." Dewey says, cutting the somewhat awkward silence. He gives Lena a charming smile. "You're just a kid, like us. You don't choose the people you're related to. It's not _your_ fault your aunt is crazy and revenge-addicted."

Lena laughs soundlessly, nodding her head.

Huey lights up again and clutches his hands close to his chest, his pen trapped in one of them. "Can I ask you more questions?!"

Lena shrugs. "Sure."


	5. try and try and try again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything is going to be okay, now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter didn't want to exist! i had to fight w it so much oh my gosh. 
> 
> this has a second part, which will HOPEFULLY be out either later tonight or tomorrow! let's hope THAT happens.
> 
> also i bullshitted the HELL out of the magic scene and the spell is very dumb so don't yell at me

"So, we know that just trying to pull you doesn't work." Webby says, discouraged, and sits back from the wall, looking up at her shadow-bound best friend. Her hands are sore from literally trying to pull Lena from the shadows. She just succeeded in banging her hands on the wall a lot.

Lena shrugs. "Guess not," She signs, before moving as if sighing and leaning back on the wall. 

"We probably need some kind of magical artifact for you to take energy from..." Webby looks down at her hands. Lena nods encouragingly. Webby thinks a moment, before tugging at her bracelet. "Would this work?" 

Lena narrows her glowing eyes in scrutiny, inspecting the bracelet. After a moment, she shrugs again. "I don't think it'd hurt to try." 

Webby smiles, happy to find SOMETHING that seems to work, and hops off her bed. "Let me get the candles and the book!" She chirps. 

The two of them-- but mostly Webby, due to the fact she's the one with a physical form-- have been trying for the past two weeks to find some way to either give Lena her physical body back, or pull her from the shadows. Or both. Preferably both.

It's slow going. 

Apparently, information about the shadow realm is scarce in Duckburg, along with information about shadow magic, the very thing that made Lena. (And Lena can't remember any of the countless lectures she got about the topic. She feels bad about it now, but it was kind of a defense mechanism, blocking them out like that.)

Webby makes sure the door is locked, and turns the light off. She crosses to her window and opens the curtains, letting in bright white moonlight. She sets out six black candles in a circle on the wooden floor, sets her bracelet delicately in the middle, and sits down next to them. 

She takes a box of matches from her nightstand drawer, and lights each candle. She shakes the match out and sits back, grabbing the spellbook from the floorboards next to her.

Lena sits next to her, a flat shadow on the wall. She sits cross-legged while Webby is on her knees, and she crosses her arms as well as she watches her best friend flip through the spellbook. 

"Okay... this spell should be the one." Webby says, sounding hesitant. "It says it can imbue an item with enough energy to bring someone back from the dead, and that spirits can touch it for a chance to return to the mortal realm. You're kind of a spirit, right...?" She worries her bill for a moment, reading over the spell again, before looking back at Lena. "It... it also says it could destroy the item used." Lena gasps, looking at Webby in surprise. 

They don't know exactly what would happen if the friendship bracelet was destroyed, but Lena can't imagine it'd be any good. 

When the item Magica was tethered to-- both in body and magical ability-- was broken, she was rendered utterly powerless and a shell of her former self. With Lena, who's very life is anchored to that sentimental scrap of floss and teenage friendship... she could disappear entirely. 

But, on the other hand... freedom is so close she can taste it. She longs more than anything to be a person again, to be herself again, and if that means risking her life...?   
Well, she'll do it. 

"We should try it anyway." Lena says, turning back to the lit candles. Wax drips down their smooth sides in thick lines. "It's worth it." 

Webby stares at her for another few seconds, her eyes puzzle-narrowed, before she sighs heavily and turns back as well. "I guess you're right." 

She looks down at the spellbook, and sighs again. "Alright, here we go..." 

" _Under the light of the moon,_  
 _With the power of my heart,_  
 _I grant the dead this token_  
 _To return from a world apart_."

The moment Webby completes the deceptively simple spell, the bracelet begins to glow a hot white, like melting metal. It floats off the floor, spinning in a lazy circle.   
She looks back at her best friend in delight. "Lena! Try to grab it!" She encourages in a stage whisper. 

Lena's shadowy form looks faded next to the bright light of the bracelet. She reaches out a trembling hand, her fear palpable, towards the now glowing token. As her fingers get closer, they begin to turn back to a healthy feathered white, the shadow melting away similar to the wax on the candles. 

"Yes! It's working!" Webby giggles, putting her hands over her mouth and staring up at Lena. "Just a little closer and you can grab it!" 

Lena blinks hard, blue eyes flickering. For a long moment, they almost look normal again, with her long eyelashes and black irises, before the blue returns, glowing. Her fingers curl in the air close to the bracelet, looking like her normal flesh from her hand to her elbow. 

Quickly, eyes flickering once more, she snatches the bracelet.

Lena turns entirely physical as soon as she gets a proper grip on the bracelet. 

She tumbles forward as if literally falling out of the shadow, landing on her hands. Her eyes immediately lift to Webby, taking in her first real breath in half of a year. She places her hands firmly on the wooden floor and sits up, feeling the grooves under her palms, the cool air of Webby's bedroom.

Both girls let out cries and Webby throws herself forward to hug Lena around the neck. "You're back you're back you're back!" She laughs, burying her face in her shoulder.

Of course, Lena hugs her back, wrapping her arms around her tightly and practically pulling her into her lap. "I'm back," she says, feeling choked by tears. Every breath she manages to take feels better than anything she's ever felt before. All the sensations she's suddenly able to feel again are too much. 

The bracelet, clutched in one of her hands, feels hot and rough, suddenly less floss and more wire. But she ignores the painful warm and hugs her best friend ever tighter, trying to make up for the six months of no contact and longing and loneliness for both of them. 

Webby sniffles against her shoulder, pulling away to wipe her teary eyes dry. "I never thought..." She hiccups once and giggles at herself. Lena's face stretches with a painfully wide grin. "I never thought I'd get to hug you again." 

Lena starts crying for real then. Ugly, loud sobs, that she has to hide in her sleeves as not to make too much noise. The bracelet is so hot it almost burns her fingers and her face when it brushes against it, but they won't unclench from around it.

It's fine, though. It can't hurt her, right? It saved her, didn't it? 

Webby raises her hands to gently brush the tears off her cheeks, thumbs sweeping in the hollow space under her eyes. "It's okay, Lena, you're okay." She coos softly, voice so sweet that Lena feels her heart flutter. "Everything is going to be okay, now." 

And then, the bracelet's light turns into darkness, and Lena is pulled back into the shadows. It's like someone wrapped their hand around her throat and yanked her back. The hands on her face disappear and she's suddenly cold again.

The light that had begun to fill the hollow space in Lena's chest is extinguished, and everything goes black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to yell at me for this ending thats entirely valid 
> 
> she'll be home for real soon, dont worry


	6. a seemingly endless string of pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo my laptop is broken! i wrote this on my phone! further updates will probably be sporadic, sorry. 
> 
> im sorry if this is a weak chapter, but i honestly really just wanted to write these interactions
> 
> also i lost this chapter like 4 times and am so done with it

One moment, Webby finally has Lena back with her, in the flesh. Her hands are on her cheeks, wiping the tears from her face, feeling the soft warmth of her skin under her palms. She's already planning all the fun stuff they're going to do together.

And the next, Lena is gone.

She's too bewildered to cry, at first. She sits back, the air smelling like smoke from her extinquished candles. It stings her eyes.

She's gone.

The bracelet is destroyed.

And all she can think is "I just killed my best friend".

She can't tell anyone, because only three other people know about Lena being in her shadow.

It would almost be funny if it didn't hurt so much.

The tears well in her eyes, and she hugs her legs up to her chest. There's a hot, red hole of guilt in her chest, filled with black like shadows from the sudden, reignited grief.

She's dead again, and again, it's all Webby's fault.

She knows she shouldn't bother anyone, because it's the middle of the night, and she said she went to bed hours ago, but she can't have all this grief to herself.

She mentally runs through a list of people she could tell about this.

Granny? No, she has enough on her plate during the day, she doesn't need to deal with the tragedy Webby has brought upon herself.

Uncle Scrooge? Yeah, that's a big NO. He'd be angry at being woken up, and somehow, Webby thinks he won't take the news she tried to use magic to pull her magical best friend from the shadow realm very well. (After said best friend lead an insane witch into his home who nearly killed him.)

The triplets? Sure, they know that Lena's her shadow, and that she's trying to rescue her, and Huey even went with her to get the spellbook from the archives. (Quackfaster was incredibly helpful, for once. Webby's, like, 86% sure she's a witch.) But... despite that, she doesn't know if she wants to tell them. Would they understand? Would they comfort her, or question her? She has no idea, and she's scared.

Duckworth? ...

That only leaves Donald.

She's hung around him enough and spent enough time with him that she considers them close, and she knows he sees her as one of his kids. But are they "come to you in the middle of the night because I might have accidentally killed my best friend with magic" close?

Well, it's time to find out.

Webby grabs a coat from her closet, and slips it on. It's been cold out for days, and she can't imagine it'd suddenly change. (The cold is incredibly fitting for how she feels.) She climbs down, out of her room, somewhat absently.

Her feet guide her through the silent halls of the mansion, somehow not coming into contact with a single soul, living or otherwise. She feels like a ghost in her own home.

She steps out of the back door into the cold night. The breeze blows her hair off her face, and freezes whatever tears linger on her cheeks. Her eyes sting.

The houseboat sits in the pool, as always. Webby's always thought it looks kind of regal-- despite being battered and old and damaged, it sits proudly, rocking gently in the wind that makes small waves in the pool. It commands the space, looking both out of place and incredibly right.

And, on the deck, despite the cold, is Donald. Awake, even though it's horribly late. He's in a chair, his back to her.

There's a sound, too, something rhythmic and soothing, drifting from the boat.

Still feeling distant, her heart hurting as if she's been stabbed in it, Webby wanders up the ramp, and onto the deck. The wood is cold under her feet, and she suddenly regrets not putting shoes on.

When she steps on, Donald looks up, the sound abruptly stopping. He turns to her nearly immediately, holding an old-looking guitar delicately in his arms, as if it's a child. She's caught him off guard-- his eyes are wide and teary, and there's an expression Webby can't name on his face. Something wistful. Maybe it's longing.

"What are you doing out here?" He says, the longing-like expression disappearing to be replaced by concern. "Webby, it's cold, and it's late."

"I know," Webby says, reaching up to wipe her eyes. She isn't sure when she started crying again. Maybe she hadn't stopped. "I just... I needed to talk to someone, because I did something, a-and you're usually up late..."

Donald's concern deepens. He sets the guitar aside gently, patting it's neck almost reverently as he does. He turns back to Webby and raises a brow at her. "Well, let's at least go inside. It's too cold to be out here."

So, a few minutes later, Webby finds herself sitting at the table in the houseboat's kitchen, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of her on the table.   
Donald sits across from her, blowing gently across the top of a mug of tea. He had only disappeared for a moment to put away his guitar. (The researcher in her wants to ask what it means to him.) "So... I'm going to be a bit blunt." he starts, curling his fingers around the cup. "Did you hurt yourself, Webby?"

Webby blinks in bewilderment and shakes her head hard without pause. "No, no! I didn't-- you don't need to worry about that," She plays with the end of her coat sleeve. (She already misses her bracelet.) "I... I just... I messed up."

Donald nods slowly, looking her over with concerned and suspicious eyes. "Okay." He sips his tea gingerly. "Would you like to tell me how?"

"I-I used magic." Webby starts nervously. "I know I'm not supposed to. I know Uncle Scrooge hates it. B-but-- um, do you remember my friend Lena?" She refuses to look at Donald, staring at her hands instead.

She can't even think about drinking her hot chocolate, because she feels nauseous and sick. Her mind keeps screaming at her that she killed Lena, that this is her fault, that she'll never see her again.

"Lena... she was the girl who came around here a lot for a few months, right?" Donald asks, stirring his tea. The spoon clinks absently at the ceramic of the mug. "With the pink hair?"

Webby nods.

(The thought of Lena's pink hair makes her chest twist. She saw that hair less than an hour earlier, and felt it brush against her hand. It hurts.)

"Yeah, her. W-well... when Magica attacked us, she used Lena to get into the mansion. She possessed her..." She presses her hands into the hot ceramic of her mug. It burns a little. "A-a lot of things happned, and Lena ended up in the shadow realm... after trying to save me..."

She can feel a pair of eyes on her, concerned and curious. She refuses to look up, though. If she meets Donald’s concerned, parental eyes (because she’s his kid just as much as the boys are) she’ll break down completely.

“She... she was attached to my old friendship bracelet...” she looks at her naked wrist, “And I've been trying my best to get her back, y’know? I’ve tried everything. Spells and rituals and... everything. I even took an artifact from the Other Bin, even though I’m not supposed to go in there.” She wipes tears from her cheeks. She’s felt guilty about that for a week, ever since she did it.

“And... tonight, it finally worked. I made a token out of my bracelet, I brought her out of the shadows...” Her hands, stinging from the hot mug, twitch at the memory of holding Lena again. Her eyes well with thick tears and they fall down her cheeks in rivers, cutting through her feathers. She hugs her knees tightly and hides her face against them, hiccuping little sobs.

The hole of guilt and the shadows of grief intensify, making her feel ill, making her almost fall apart. She feels like it’ll kill her.

“It didn’t last, did it?” Donald asks suddenly. She looks up through her teary eyelashes, and he’s staring into his tea, a tense expression on his face. “The bracelet fell apart, didn’t it?”

Webby blinks in surprise. How did he know? “Yeah,” she says, sniffling. “It— it just got all hot, and it was glowing, and then she just... got pulled back into the shadows.” She gestures as if having someone pulled from her arms. “And she was gone.”

The silence returns for a long moment.

“And then what?” Donald asks. “What do you think happened to her?”

Webby shrugs. “I... I think she’s dead.” She says. Admitting it hurts like a knife stab. “I think I killed her.”

“I don’t think that, Webby.” Donald says gently. “Listen, I’m no sorcerer, but... the shadow realm exists independent of you and your bracelet, right? So...” he trails off, sipping his tea.

Webby looks over at her shadow. It’s still, without eyes or the impression of features. Could Lena... could Lena still be alive, despite her mistake...? “So... she could be out there, alive?” She asks, looking back at Donald. “Do you think that could happen?”

Donald shrugs. “Yeah, I think that could definitely happen. I know a bit about the shadow realm.” He says, vaguely. “And if she is... it’s your job to find her, Webby. I mean, you might have failed this time, but you’re good enough at magic to make a token that can basically bring someone back from the dead. And that’s pretty impressive.”

Webby’s face warms under the acknowledgement of her skills. Part of her wants to deny it, she did mess up so badly tonight, but... Donald doesn’t lie when it comes to compliments. He’s honest.

He smiles at her, and reaches over to part her head. “Drink your hot chocolate, Webby. I’ll take you back to bed when you’re done. If you get some rest, I’m sure you’ll figure this out.”

Thirty minutes later, Donald carries a half asleep duckling inside to her room, laying her down in bed and kissing her forehead.

“Goodnight and good luck, Webby.”

(In a space of nothing but blackness, a shadow girl floats, dreaming.

In her dreams, she’s laying with her head in a pink-wearing girls lap. Her hands brush through her hair, across her cheeks.

She sings a soft song.

It’s all she can think of.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love donald duck 
> 
> also this fic has spiralled far away from what i originally planned it as l o l

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr for ducks and gays @transfethryduck


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